Nightfang Potter: Order Of The White Lotus
by Cody The Pikachu
Summary: With his warning about Red Helmet returning scoffed at, Nightfang is targeted by the warrior authorities as an authoritarian bureaucrat slowly seizes power at the Forest. So he, Redstone, and Fawnwillow recruit several cats in the Forest to train to fight Red Helmet and his Demon Cats. Rated T for language, blood, and violence. Crossover of books and movies.
1. Tubby Traumatized

**Cody The Pikachu: Hey there, everyone, and welcome back to the Nightfang Potter series! Beside me here is my helper in the series, Avatar Korra!**

**Korra: Great to be here, Cody! I'm looking forward to reading this story from head to tail. So...are we gonna put the main summary here?**

**Cody: Nah. It would take too long. I know it would mean a lot to the readers to see what it's about, but like I said before, it would take too long. That, and everyone would know what it's about due to reading Order Of The Phoenix. But what you CAN do, Korra, is help with the disclaimer. If you want to, that is.**

**Korra: Sure. Let's get started!**

**Disclaimer: Cody The Pikachu (he's called that now) doesn't own Harry Potter or Warrior Cats. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter.**

**Publishing Date: November 26, 2013**

**Both: Enjoy Nightfang Potter And The Order Of The White Lotus!**

**...**

_**Tubby Traumatized**_

The hottest day of greenleaf so far was ending, and a drowsy silence lay over the large houses of Wrangell Island in Alaska. Monsters that usually gleamed now stood grimy in their driveways, and once-green lawns lay dry and yellowing; the use of hoses had been banned due to drought. Deprived of their usual outdoor activities, the Twolegs and animals had retreated into the shade of their cool houses, windows thrown wide in the hope of tempting in a nonexistent breeze; the wild animals had to do whatever it took to cool off. The only being left outdoors was a cat, a Maine Coon and British Shorthair mix, lying flat on his back in a flower bed outside number six.

He was a skinny longhaired black cat who had the haggard look of a stray cat. His groomed fur was now patchy, his claws were chipped, and he was panting. Nightfang Potter's appearance did not endear the neighbors and several kittypets, who thought untidiness should be illegal by law, but since he hid away behind a large holly bush, he was quite invisible to passersby. In fact, the only way he would be spotted was if his relatives or owner stuck their heads out of the living room window and looked straight down into the flower bed below.

On the whole, Nightfang thought he would be praised on his idea. Of course, it wasn't easy lying on the hot hard earth, but at least nobody was glaring at him, growling so loudly that he could not hear the news or shooting nasty questions at him; this had happened whenever he tried sitting down in the living room and watching television with his relatives and the family dog, Buck.

As if this thought had fluttered through the window, Bristle Dursley, Nightfang's gray British Shorthair uncle, suddenly spoke. "Glad to see the boy's stopped butting in. Where is he?"

"I don't know," gray British Shorthair Tulip replied icily. "Not in the house."

"Watching the news," Bristle growled scathingly. "I'd like to know what he's up to. As if a cat cares what's on the news. Tubby doesn't even know what's going on, doubt he knows who the President of America is! Anyway, it's not like there'd be anything about his lot on our news-"

"Shh! The window's open!"

"Oh...sorry dear."

There was silence after that. Nightfang listened to a jingle about some Frosted Flakes breakfast cereal while he watched Fig, a strange old gray tabby she-cat from nearby, amble slowly past. The old ferret-loving cat was frowning and muttering to herself. Nightfang was happy that he was safe behind the bush, for Fig had recently started asking him around for cream whenever she met him roaming the streets.

She had just gone around the corner before Bristle meowed, "Tubs out for tea?"

"At the Polkisses'," Tulip sighed fondly. "He's such a popular little boy."

Nightfang rolled his eyes. The Dursleys really were stupid about their son Tubby. They had swallowed his lies about having tea with a different member of his gang every night of greenleaf. He knew too well that Tubby had not been to tea anywhere: he and his gang spent every evening wrecking the park, hitting on uninterested she-cats, and beating up kits and other small animals. Nightfang had seen them beat up a kit during his evening walks around the area since he had spent most of greenleaf wandering the streets, hunting for newspapers from the trash.

The opening notes of the music that heralded the five o'clock news reached Nightfang's ears, and he sank his claws into the ground. After a moon of waiting, perhaps this would be the night.

"Record numbers of stranded vacationers fill airports as the Mexican baggage-handler's strike reaches its second week..."

"I'd give them lifelong siesta, that's what I would do," Bristle grumbled over the end of the newsreader's sentence.

Out in the flower bed, Nightfang dug his large forepaws into the earth. If anything had happened, it would surely have been the first item on the news. Death and destruction were more important than stranded vacationers in a Mexican airport.

He let out a slow breath and stared up at the bright blue sky. Every day this greenleaf had been tense. The expectation, the temporary relief, and then the mounting tension again...it was always growing more insistent all the time. But why did nothing happen yet?

The black cat kept listening in case there was a small clue that Twolegs would not expect, an mysterious vanishing or some accident... but the baggage-handlers' strike was followed by news on the drought in the Southeast ("I hope he's listening next door with his sprinklers on at three in the morning!" Bristle snarled), a helicopter that almost crashed in a national park near the city of Anchorage, then a famous Twoleg actress's divorce from her famous husband ("As if we're interested in their repugnant affairs," Tulip sniffed hypocritically).

Nightfang closed his eyes against the blazing evening sky as the newsreader said, "And finally, Babe, a six-month old baby African elephant, has found a brand new way of keeping cool this summer. Babe, who lives at the Metroparks Zoo in Cleveland, Ohio, has learned to throw water bottles over his back with his trunk and dump the water all over himself! His keepers went to find out more for the rest of the herd..."

Nightfang rolled cautiously to a crouch, preparing to crawl out from under the window. Right now, important news like attacks, vanishings, and even demon bears were more important than baby elephants.

Just then, an echoing crack broke the sleepy silence like a gun; a bluebird took off from a roof and flew out of sight. There was a shriek, a roaring oath, and the sound of breaking glass from the Dursleys' living room. Waiting for this signal, Nightfang jumped to his paws and unsheathed his claws, raising the tail-wand he put on his tail. But before he could get up fully, he tread on a thorn, making him yowl in pain and Tulip scream even louder.

Nightfang felt like his head was split in two; eyes streaming, he swayed, trying to focus on the street and see the source of the noise. But just as he staggered upright again, a huge weight knocked him to the ground and rolled him over onto his back. Just as Nightfang was about to react, he felt two meaty forepaws press hard onto his throat.

"Put...it...away!" Bristle snarled into his nephew's ear. "Now!"

"Get...off me!" Nightfang choked. "Now!"

For a few seconds, they struggled, Nightfang kicking at the British Shorthair's fat belly. Then the pain in Nightfang's head gave a nasty throb, and Bristle hissed as he let him go as if he had just received an electric shock. Some invisible force seemed to have surged through the black tom, making him impossible to hold to the ground.

Panting, Nightfang rolled over the bush, got up, and stared around. There was no sign of the maker of the loud cracking noise, but there were several Twoleg and cat faces peering through various windows. Nightfang leapt onto the open windowsill, where his owner Daniel was looking down at both cats in concern, and tried to look innocent.

"Lovely evening!" Bristle called as he followed him, waving at a neighbor glaring from behind her net curtains. "Did you hear that car backfire? Gave Tulip and me quite a scare!"

He continued to grin in a horrible manic way until all the neighbors disappeared from their windows, but then the grin became a scowl of rage as he flicked his tail for Nightfang to come back towards him. So Nightfang sat there on the windowsill just to stay out of reach of being clawed by his uncle.

"What the devil do you mean by it, boy?!" Bristle hissed in a croaky voice of fury.

"What're you talking about?" Nightfang asked coldly, looking left and right up the street.

"Making a racket like a gun right outside our house!"

Nightfang stayed where he was. "I didn't say or do anything."

Tulip appeared beside Bristle, her squashed face looking livid as she spat, "Why were you under our window?"

Bristle nodded. "Yes, good point, Tulip! What were you dong under our window, boy?" he growled at Nightfang.

"Listening to the news," Nightfang muttered in a stoic voice.

His aunt and uncle exchanged looks of outrage. "Again?"

"It changes every day."

"Don't get clever with us, boy!" Bristle snapped. "I want to know what you're really up to...and don't you dare give me any more of this listening to the news foolishness. You know perfectly well that your lot..."

"Careful!" Tulip breathed, so Bristle lowered his voice so that Nightfang could barely hear him, "...that your group doesn't get on our news!"

Nightfang shrugged. "Well, that's all you know."

The Dursley cats goggled at him for a few seconds. Then Tulip hissed, "We know you're a nasty little liar. What are all those...owls..." She had also lowered her voice so that Nightfang had to read the words. "...doing if they're not bringing you news?"

Bristle snorted in triumph. "Ha! Get out of that one, boy! As if we didn't know you get all your news from those pestilential buzzards!"

Nightfang faltered for a moment. It cost him something to tell the truth this time despite his aunt and uncle not knowing how bad it felt to admit it.

"They aren't bringing me news," Nightfang finally replied dully.

"I don't believe it," Tulip sniffed at once.

"No more do I," Bristle added forcefully.

"We know you're up to something."

"We're not stupid, you know."

Nightfang snorted, feeling his temper rise; it had done so often these days. Finally, he growled, "Well, that's good for me then, isn't it?"

And before the Dursley cats or Daniel could call him back, he leapt out of the windowsill, ran across the front lawn, and darted away up the street. He guessed they would yowl at him, but Nightfang wasn't worried about that.

He was in trouble now; he knew it. He would have to face them later and pay the price for his disrespect, but he did not care at the moment. There was something else on his mind.

Nightfang was sure that the cracking noise was made by someone Apparating or Disapparating. It was the sound Bobby the flying lemur made whenever he vanished. Was it possible that his primate friend was here in Wrangell Island? Could he be following him? As he thought of this, he stared back down the street, but it was completely empty again, and Nightfang was sure that Bobby did not know how to be invisible.

He walked on, hardly aware of the route he was taking, for he had roamed these streets so often lately that his paws carried him to his hangouts routinely. He often glanced over his shoulder. Someone magical had been near him as he laid under the holly bush. Why hadn't they spoken to him, why hadn't they made contact, and why were they hiding?

And then, as his frustration hit the highest point, his confidence seeped away.

Perhaps it wasn't a magical sound after all. Perhaps he was so frantic for a sign of contact from his true world that he was overreacting to normal noises. But he was so sure that it hadn't been the sound of something breaking into a house. Nightfang felt a dull sinking feeling in his belly, and the feeling of futility that plagued him all greenleaf rolled over him again.

He would wake up early in the morning to pay the owl that brought the Daily Warrior...but was there any point in reading it? Nightfang would look at the front page before throwing it away in disgust. When the mouse-brains who created the newspaper finally realized that Red Helmet had returned, it would be headline news, and THAT was the only kind Nightfang cared about.

If he was lucky, there would be owls with letters from his best friends, Redstone Weasley and Fawnwillow Granger. But any expectation he had that their letters would bring him news had long since been ruined.

But will they see him? Nobody seemed bothered with a precise date. Fawnwillow had jotted "We'll be seeing you soon" inside his birthday card, but how soon was soon? As far as Nightfang knew from the vague hints in their letters, she and Redstone were in the same place, apparently at Redstone's place. He could hardly bear to think of the pair of them having fun at the Tunnels when he was stuck in Wrangell Island. In fact, he was so angry at them that he had thrown both their birthday presents of candy away unopened. But he had lamented this after eating the stale cat food Daniel had provided for dinner that night.

And what were they busy with? Why wasn't he busy? Hadn't he proved himself adept to handling more than they? Had they forgotten what he had done? He had entered that cemetery and saw Oakheart Diggory being murdered and had been tied to that tombstone and nearly killed.

_Don't think about that,_ Nightfang told himself sternly for the millionth time. It was bad enough that he kept revisiting the graveyard in his recent nightmares, without dwelling on it in his waking moments too. He had to get over it and move on.

He turned a corner into Grave Street and padded down the road, looking at the mountains from across the water and thinking of his godfather. At least Padfoot seemed to understand how Nightfang felt. Admittedly, his letters were just as empty as his friends', but at least they held words of caution and consolation instead of tempting hints.

"I know this must be frustrating for you, but be patient." "Keep your eyes open, and everything will be okay." Be careful, and don't do anything rash."

Nightfang crossed Grave Street, turned into another nameless road, and headed towards the dark forest path ahead. He had done as Padfoot told him, resisted the temptation to pack his stuff and set off for the Tunnels by himself.

In fact, Nightfang thought his behavior had been good since he felt frustrated and angry at being in this new home for this long, reduced to hiding in flowers and hoping to hear something that might point to what Red Helmet was doing. Still, it was annoying to be told not to be rash by a cat who had served twelve years in the cat prison, Alcatraz, escaped, tried to commit the murder he had been convicted for in the first place, and then went on the run with a hippogriff.

Nightfang jumped over the locked park gate and set off across the parched grass. The park in the forest was as empty as the surrounding streets. When he reached the swings, he leapt up onto the slide, which was like a slippery rock, sat down, and looked to the stars appearing in the sky.

He would not be able to hide in the flower bed again. Tomorrow he would have to try a new way of listening to the news. In the meantime, he had nothing to look forward to but another restless and disturbed night. Even if he escaped nightmares about Oakheart, he had disturbing dreams about long dark corridors, all finishing in dead ends and locked doors, which he supposed had something to do with the trapped feeling he had when he was awake.

Often, the old scar on his forehead pricked uncomfortably, but he did not fool himself that his friends or godfather found it interesting anymore. In the past, his scar hurting had warned that Red Helmet was getting stronger again. But now that he was back, they would probably remind him that its regular irritation was to be expected.

The injustice welled up inside him so much that he wanted to yowl to the Alaskan sky with fury. If it hasn't been for him, nobody would even have known Red Helmet was back!

He did not know how long he had been on the slide before the sound of cats meowing interrupted his thoughts. The streetlamps from the Thunderpath were casting a misty glow strong enough to form several cats making their way across the park. One of them was singing a loud crude metal song, making them laugh.

Tubby was as big as ever, but a year of dieting and a new talent had shaped quite a change in his physique. As Bristle proudly told anyone who would listen, Tubby had just become the Junior Heavyweight Inter-School Wrestling Champion of Juneau. "The princely sport," as Bristle called it, had made Tubby even more intimidating than he had seemed to Nightfang back at obedience school when he had been Tubby's moving target.

Nightfang was not afraid of his cousin anymore, but he didn't think that Tubby learning to claw harder and more accurately was cause for celebration. Neighborhood cats all around were scared of him, even more terrified than they were of "that Potter cat" who, they had been warned, was a tough gangster who attended St. Cassius's Locked Center for Hopelessly Criminal Cats.

He watched the cats crossing the grass and wondered whom they beat up tonight. _Look round,_ Nightfang found himself thinking. _Come on, turn around…I'm all alone. Come on at me._

If they saw him, they would have run for him, and what would Tubby do? He wouldn't want to lose face in front of the gang, but he was still terrified of provoking Nightfang. It would be fun to watch Tubby's tight spot: to taunt him, watch him, powerless to respond. And if any of the others tried fighting too, Nightfang would be ready.

_Let them try,_ he thought, unsheathing his claws. _I'd love a good fight...especially those who made my life hell._

But they did not turn around nor see him, though they were almost at the railings. Nightfang kept down the impulse to yowl after them. Seeking a fight was not a smart move to do. He must not use magic or else would be risking expulsion again.

Tubby's gang's voices died; they were out of sight, heading along Magnolia Road. This made Nightfang think dully, _There you go, Padfoot. Nothing rash. I kept my nose clean. Exactly the opposite of what you'd have done._

He got up to his paws and stretched his forelegs. Daniel seemed to feel that that whenever his cats turned up was the right time to be home, and any time after that was much too late. Daniel had decided to lock either cat outside again, so, stifling a yawn, still scowling, Nightfang set off toward the park gate.

Like the previous street, this one was full of square houses with mowed lawns, owned by square owners who drove monsters similar to Daniel's van. Nightfang preferred going by here at night, when the curtain windows made patches of jewel-like colors in the darkness and he would not hear critical mutters about his "criminal" appearance when he passed by. He walked so fast that halfway along the way, Tubby's gang came into view again; they were saying their farewells at the entrance of the area. Nightfang climbed up a low pine tree and waited.

"He squealed like a rat, didn't he?" one cat was saying, to guffaws from the others.

"Nice right hook, Big T," Jimmy Polkiens praised.

"Same time tomorrow?" Tubby grunted.

"Round at my place. My owner's out for the night," another cat replied.

Tubby responded, "See you then."

"Bye Tub!"

"See ya, Big T!"

Nightfang waited for the gang to move on before leaping down from the tree branch. When their voices had faded, he headed around the corner and soon came within hailing distance of Tubby, who was strolling along at his ease, whistling tunelessly.

"Hey, Big T!"

Tubby turned around and glared at him. "Oh," he grunted, "It's you."

"How long have been Big T?"

"Shut it," Tubby growled, turning away again.

Nightfang just grinned and walked beside his cousin. "Cool name. But to me, you'll always be Wittle Tubbykins."

"SHUT IT!" Tubby snapped, his ugly flat face turning to glare at him.

"Don't the guys know that's what your mom calls you?" Nightfang taunted.

Tubby growled, "Shut your face."

Nightfang pretended to gasp in offense. "You can't tell her to shut her face. So what about 'Pumpkin' and 'Tubby Wubby'? Can I use them too?"

The large gray tom said nothing. The effort of keeping himself from hitting Nightfang seemed to be demanding all of his self-control.

"So who've you been beating up tonight?" Nightfang asked. "Another small dog? I know you beat up the Evans' Yorkie dog two nights ago."

"He was asking for it," Tubby snarled.

Nightfang nodded. "Oh really? What'd he do? Did he piss on your tail?"

Tubby muttered, "No. He cheeked me."

"Really? Did he say you look like a pig walking on its hind legs?" Nightfang asked. "If so, then that's not cheek, Tub. It's true."

His cousin merely made a small growl in his throat. It made Nightfang happy to know how angry Tubby was now. He felt like he was channeling his ire into his cousin, the only outlet around.

They turned right down towards the forest path where Nightfang saw Padfoot a quarter-moon ago. It was empty and much darker than the streets because there were no streetlamps; the only noise outside were crickets chirping and bats squeaking. Their pawsteps were stifled between garage walls on one side and a high fence on the other.

"Think you're tough carrying that, don't you?" Tubby hissed after a few seconds.

"What?"

"That..._thing_ you're hiding."

Nightfang just grinned again. "Not as stupid as you look, are you, Tub? But I suppose if you really were that stupid, you wouldn't walk and talk at the same time."

With that, he raised his tail until the tail-wand was shown. He saw Tubby look sideways at it as he mewled, "You're not allowed, I know you're not. You'd get expelled from that freak obedience school you go to."

"How'd you know they haven't changed the rules, Big T?" Nightfang purred.

"They haven't," Tubby replied, though he didn't sound convinced. But as Nightfang laughed softly, the gray cat snarled, "You don't have the guts to fight me without that thing, have you?"

"While you just need four pals behind you before you can kick a dog. Pretty brave," Nightfang shot back sarcastically, a grin on his face. "You know that wrestling title you keep talking about? How old was your foe? Seven? Eight? And about the breed...Maine Coon? Another Manx?"

Tubby spat, "He was five and a pit bull. He was out cold for twenty minutes after I'd finished with him, and he was twice as heavy. I'll Dad you had that thing out."

Nightfang chuckled. "Aww, running to Daddy? Is his cute wittle wrestling champion frightened of nasty wittle Snowy's weapon?"

"Not this brave at night, are you?" Tubby suddenly sneered.

"This is night, Tubby Wubby," Nightfang chuckled. "That's what we call it when the sky goes all dark like this."

"I mean when you're in bed!"

The two cats stopped their walking as Nightfang stared at his cousin in confusion. Despite not having much light, he could tell that Tubby was wearing a strangely dominant sneer.

The black cat meowed in confusion, "What do you mean, I'm not brave in bed? Am I supposed to be scared of blankets or something?"

Tubby sneered breathlessly, "You've been one to talk about being brave. I heard you talking in your sleep. _Moaning_."

"What do you mean?" Nightfang asked again. "What the hell are you meowing about?"

But there was an icy feeling in his belly now as the good feeling faded away. He had revisited the graveyard last night in his dreams.

Tubby gave a harsh fox-like bark of laughter then made a high-pitched whimpering voice. "Don't kill Oakheart! Don't kill Oakheart! Who's he, your boyfriend?"

"I...no...no! You're lying!" Nightfang mewed automatically. But he knew Tubby wasn't lying in spite of the protesting.

"Dad, help me! He's going to kill me, Dad! Boo-hoo!"

Nightfang unsheathed his claws. "Shut up...shut up, Tubby. I'm warning you!"

"Come and help me, Dad! Come and help me...oi! Get off of me!"

Nightfang had sprung at him and knocked him to the ground, pinning him there with one paw on his throat. As he lifted his tail-wand and pointed it at him, Nightfang felt fourteen years' hatred of his cousin pounding in his veins and heart. He would love to strike now, to jinx Tubby so hard that he would have to crawl home like a toad, struck dumb and sprouting warty skin.

"Don't ever talk about that again," Nightfang snarled, keeping him pinned there. "Don't you DARE talk about that around me ever again. Do you understand me?"

"Point that thing somewhere else!"

"Do you understand me?!"

"Point it somewhere else!"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!"

"GET THAT THING AWAY FROM-"

Just then, Tubby gave a shuddering gasp, as if he had been doused in icy water.

Something had happened to the night. The star-strewn indigo sky was suddenly pitch-black and lightless, the stars, moon, and streetlamps having vanished. The distant grumble of monsters and the whisper of trees had gone. The balmy evening was suddenly piercingly, bitingly cold. They were surrounded by total, impenetrable, silent darkness as though some giant hand had dropped an icy mantle over the entire alleyway, blinding them.

For a moment, Nightfang thought he had done magic without meaning to, despite the fact that he had been resisting as hard as he could. But his reason caught up with his instincts: he didn't have the power to control the stars. He looked around, trying to see something, but the dark pressed on his eyes like a weightless wad of moss.

Tubby's terrified voice whined into Nightfang's ear. "W-what are you d-doing? St-stop it!"

"I'm not doing anything! Shut up and stay still!"

"I c-can't see! I've g-gone blind! I-"

"Shut UP!"

Nightfang grew as still as a board, turning his eyes left and right as he sniffed around. The cold was so intense that he was shivering all over; goose bumps had erupted up his legs, and his tail was standing up; this was extremely weird despite it being greenleaf. He opened his eyes to their fullest extent, staring blankly around, unseeing.

_No...no way, _he thought in horror. They can't be here...not near Juneau... He strained his ears to hear them before he saw them.

"I'll t-tell Dad!" Tubby whimpered. "W-where are you? What are you d-do-?"

Nightfang hissed, "Will you shut up?! I'm trying to-"

But he fell silent. He had heard just the thing he had been dreading.

There was something in the woods apart from themselves, something that was drawing hoarse rattling breaths. Nightfang felt a horrible jolt of dread in his heart as he stood trembling in the freezing air.

"C-cut it out! Stop doing it! I'll h-hit you, I swear I will!"

"Tubby, I said shut-"

Claws sliced into the side of his head, almost carrying off of his paws. White lights popped in front of Nightfang's bright green eyes. For the second time, he felt like his head was cut in two; in the next moment, he had landed hard on the ground.

"Fucking idiot!" Nightfang yowled, his eyes watering with pain as he scrambled to his paws. As he licked his paw to swipe the blood away, he heard Tubby blundering away, hitting the alley fence and stumbling.

"TUBBY, GET BACK HERE! YOU'RE RUNNING RIGHT AT IT!"

There was a horrible squealing yell, and Tubby stopped moving. At the same moment, Nightfang felt a chill behind him that could mean only one thing. There was more than one of those things around here now.

With a yowl, he called, "Tubby, shut up! Whatever you do, shut up!" Nightfang flicked his tail-wand once and muttered, _"Lumos!"_

He had said the spell right away, desperate for light to help him. To his relief, light flared just kit-steps away from his head; the tail-wand tip had ignited into a white light. Nightfang snatched it up to put it on his tail, scrambled to his paws, and turned around...and felt his belly heave.

A large hooded figure was gliding smoothly toward him, taller than a Twoleg. It was hovering over the ground, no feet or face visible beneath its robes sucking on the night as it came towards the two cats.

Stumbling backward, Nightfang lifted his tail-wand, yowling, _"Expecto Patronum!"_

A silvery fragment of vapor shot from the tip of the tail-wand. When it saw this, the Dementor slowed, but the spell hadn't worked properly. Nightfang retreated farther as the Dementor bore down upon him, panic fogging his brain and leaving him unable to think.

_Concentrate..._

A pair of gray greasy scabbed hands slid from inside the robes, reaching for him. A rushing noise filled Nightfang's ears, forcing him to step back even further.

_"Expecto Patronum!"_

His voice sounded so dim and distant. Another wisp of silver smoke, much feebler than the last one, drifted from the tail-wand. He couldn't do it anymore; he couldn't get the spell to work.

Just then, there was laughter in his head, shrill high laughter. He could smell the Dementor's putrid coldness and feel it filling his own lungs and choking him. _Think..._ he hissed to himself. _Think of something happy..._

But there was no happiness in his heart. The Dementor's icy fingers were closing on his throat. The high-pitched laughter was growing louder and louder, and a deeper colder voice spoke clear inside his head: _"Bow to death, Nightfang...it will be quick or even painless. I would not know, for I have never died."_ He was never going to see his two best friends ever again...

And their faces burst into his mind as he fought for breath

_"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"_

A large silver stag erupted from the tip of the tail-wand. Its antlers caught the Dementor where the heart should have been, and it was thrown backward, weightless as darkness. As the stag charged some more, the Dementor swooped away, bat-like and defeated.

"Come on, this way!" Nightfang called to the stag. Wheeling around, he sprinted down the forest path, holding his tail-wand up. "Tubby? TUBBY! Where are you?!"

He had barely run a few steps when he reached them: Tubby was curled and cowering on the ground, curled up in a ball. A second Dementor was crouching low over the fat gray cat, gripping his paw in its slimy hands, prizing them slowly and almost lovingly apart. Then it began to lower its hooded head toward his face as though about to kiss him.

"GET IT!" Nightfang roared.

With a rushing, roaring sound, the silver stag came galloping back past him. The Dementor's eyeless face was barely near Tubby's whiskers when the silver antlers caught it; it was thrown up in the air and soared away and was absorbed into the darkness like the first. The stag trotted up to the entrance to the forest path and dissolved into the mist.

Moon, stars, and streetlamps finally burst back into life, and a warm breeze swept the island. The pine trees rustled in neighboring gardens, and the mundane rumble of monsters filled the air once again. Nightfang sat still, all his senses vibrating, as he started taking in the unexpected return to normality. After a moment, he became aware that his pelt was sticking to him due to the returning heat of greenleaf. He could not believe what he had just seen.

_Dementors...here...on Wrangell Island..._

Tubby was curled up in a ball on the ground, whimpering and shaking. Nightfang crouched down to see if he was in a fit state to get up, but then heard running footsteps behind him. Instinctively, he raised his tail-wand again and spun around to face the newcomer.

Fig had come panting into sight. Her grizzled gray tabby pelt was crinkling in the breeze as her Twoleg chased after her, a clanking string shopping bag swinging from its wrist and its feet halfway out of tartan carpet slippers. Nightfang tried to hide his tail-wand, but-

"Don't put that away, mouse-brain!" Fig suddenly shrieked at him. "Dementors here in Alaska! What next?! Oh I'm going to kill Dung Fletcher!"

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Cody The Pikachu: Well, here we go! This is the first chapter done, and we have a LOT more to finish! First a Dementor attack, now what next? Just remember: it's going to be a mix of the book and movie of the fifth Harry Potter book.**

**Korra: But there aren't much differences between them in the beginning. Except maybe a few lines or so.**

**Cody: Yeah, you're right. But we're all gonna get through with this, I promise you. Now would you like to read the review part?**

**Korra: Sure. Anything for a friend. (To the readers) Read and review this story, folks! Anyone who does will receive a virtual plush doll of their favorite Harry Potter in their Nightfang Potter form. We do not allow flames or I'll douse them with WaterBending, but we DO welcome advice, questions of any kind, and even some constructive criticism. Just as long as it's not harsh, of course.**

**Both: See ya next time! And have a Happy Thanksgiving!  
**


	2. A Fleck Of Owls

**Cody The Pikachu: Hey there, everyone, and welcome back to the newest chapter of the fifth Nightfang Potter story. We're trying to get there, and we're ready to go back home to Sweet Home Alabama.**

**Korra: (Smiles) You got that from the song, didn't you?**

**Cody: Yep. I kinda like it...and a song kinda like that. It's called All Summer Long by the artist Kid Rock.**

**Korra: He was the one who sang that cool rock song years ago, right? (He nods) Good. Now excuse me...I gotta read the disclaimer.**

**Disclaimer: Cody owns nothing from both series. They both belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter. And this story here is a mix of the books and the movies, which is a pretty cool combination if you ask me.**

**Uploading Date: December 2, 2013**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**A Fleck Of Owls**_

"He left!" Fig yowled. "Left to see someone about some pots that fell off the back of a dragon! I told him I'd skin him alive if he went, and now look what's happened! Dementors! It's just lucky I put Mr. Whiskers on the case! But we haven't got time to stand around! We've got to get you back home! Oh, the trouble this is going to cause! I will _kill_ him!"

The revelation that his batty old ferret-obsessed neighbor knew what Dementors were was as big a shock to Nightfang as meeting two of them down the forest path. "You're...a warrior?"

Fig shook her elderly head. "Actually, I'm a rogue, as Dung knows fully well. So how on earth was I supposed to help you fight off two Dementors? He left you completely without cover when I warned him..."

"This Dung guy was following me?" And then it came to him. "Hold on...it was him! He was the one who Disapparated from the front of my house!"

"Yes, yes, but I stationed Mr. Whiskers under a car just in case," Fig replied. "And he came and warned me, but when I got to your house, you were already gone...and now...oh dear, what's Silverstar going to say about this? You!" she shrieked at Tubby, still prostrate on the forest floor. "Get your fat rump off the ground!"

Nightfang stared at the Devon Rex. "You know Silverstar?"

Fig nodded. "Of course I know him. Who doesn't? But come on! I'll be no help if they come back! I've never so much as transfigured a Twoleg shoe." She stooped down, seized one of Tubby's massive forelegs in her jaws and tugged. "Get up, you useless lump of lard, get up!"

But Tubby either could not or would not move. He just stayed there on the ground, trembling.

"I'll do it." Nightfang nudged his way under his cousin and pushed up hard. With an enormous effort, he managed to hoist him up to his feet, almost breaking his back. Tubby's small eyes were rolling in their sockets, and the moment Nightfang released him, he swayed dangerously.

He grabbed one of his large forelegs, draped it over his shoulder, and dragged him towards the road, sagging slightly under the weight. Fig tottered along in front of them, peering anxiously around the corner.

"Keep your tail-wand out," she told Nightfang as they padded down the road. "Never mind the Act of Secrecy now, there's going to be hell to pay, We might as well be hanged for a badger as a cub. Talk about the Rational Restriction of Underage Magic...this was what Silverstar was afraid of. What's that at the end of the street? Oh, it's just Mr. Prentice's poodle...I said I'm no use, boy! Don't put your tail-wand away!"

It was not easy to hold a tail-wand up and pull Tubby at the same time. Nightfang gave his big cousin an impatient jab in the side, but Tubby seemed to have lost all movement on his own. He was slumped on Nightfang's shoulder, his large paws dragging along the ground.

"Why didn't you say you're a rogue?" Nightfang asked Fig, panting to keep walking. "All those times I came to your place...why didn't you say anything sooner?"

Fig replied, "That was on Silverstar's orders. I was to keep watch over you but not say anything; you were too young. I'm so sorry I gave you a miserable time, Nightfang, but the Dursleys would never have let you come if they'd thought you enjoyed it. It wasn't easy, but oh goodness," she mewled tragically. "When Silverstar hears of this...how could Dung have left? He was supposed to keep a lookout until moonhigh, now where is he? How am I going to tell Silverstar what's happened? I can't Apparate."

Nightfang groaned, feeling like his spine would snap in half. "I've got my own owl. You can borrow her if you want."

"You don't understand!" Fig told him. "Silverstar will need to act as quickly as possible. The Government has its own ways of detecting any underage magic. They'll know about this already, let me tell you."

"But I was getting rid of Dementors. I had to use magic for self-defense," Nightfang told her. "They'll be more worried about what Dementors were doing floating around here, right?"

Fig sighed. "Oh dear, I wish it were so, but I'm afraid...DUNG FLETCHER, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!" she shrieked into the night air.

There was a loud crack and a strong smell of alcohol and tobacco filled the air as a short and chubby dog materialized right in front of them. He had short bandy legs, short tricolored fur, and bloodshot baggy eyes that showed the doleful look of a basset hound. He was also wearing a silvery bundle that Nightfang saw at once as an Invisibility Pelt.

"S'up, Figgy?" he greeted Fig in a thick Cockney British accent, staring from Fig to Nightfang and Tubby. "What 'appened to staying undercover, eh?"

"I'll give you undercover!" Fig yowled at him. "Dementors, you useless shirking sneak thief!"

Dung stared at her, aghast. "Dementors? 'Ere?"

Fig shrieked, "Yes, here, you worthless pile of badger droppings! Dementors attacking the boy on your watch!"

"Blimey," Dung said weakly, looking from cat to cat and back again. "Blimey, I-"

"And you go off buying pilfered pots! Didn't I tell you not to go? Didn't I?!"

Dung looked uneasy. "I-well, I...it was a very good business opportunity, see-"

Just then, Fig unsheathed her claws and sliced Dung around the face and neck with them. Judging by the scraping noise it made, the claws were not sharp enough to scratch wood.

"Ouch!" the basset hound bayed, scrambling away from her. "Gerroff me, you mad old bat, gerroff me! Someone's gotta tell Silverstar!"

"Yes...they...better!" Fig yowled, swinging her paw at every bit of Dung she could reach. "And! It! Had! Better! Be! You! And! You! Can! Tell! Him! Why! You! Weren't! There! To! Help!"

Dung cowered by holding his paws up. "Keep your 'air on! I'm going, I'm going!"

And with another loud crack, he disappeared.

As soon as Dung went, Fig hissed furiously, "I hope Silverstar flays him alive! Now come on, Nightfang, what are you waiting for?"

Nightfang wanted to say that he could barely walk under Tubby's bulk, but he knew this was not a way to talk to elders. So he gave the semi-conscious Tubby a heave and stumbled on, panting.

"I'll take you to the door," Fig meowed as they arrived at Evergreen Terrace. "Just in case there are more of them around. Oh my word, what a catastrophe! And you had to fight them off all by yourself...Silverstar said we were to keep you from doing magic at all costs. Well, it's no good wailing over lost prey, I suppose...but the ferret's among the pigeons now."

"Silverstar's having...me followed?" Nightfang rasped.

Fig nodded. "Of course! Did you expect him to let you wander around by yourself after what happened in June? Good Lord, they told me you were intelligent!" Noticing his tired face, she mewed as they reached the door, "Right… get inside and stay there...I expect someone will be in touch with you soon enough."

Nightfang dumped Tubby on the grass. "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going home," Fig answered, staring around the dark street and shuddering as if she was cold. "I'll need to wait for more instructions. Just stay in the house. Goodnight, Nightfang."

"Wait, don't go yet! I want to know -"

But Fig had already set off at a trot.

Nightfang yowled after her again, wanting to ask if there was anyone who was in contact with Silverstar, but Fig was swallowed by the darkness. Scowling, he readjusted Tubby onto his shoulder and made his slow and painful way up the garden path. Once they made it onto the doorstep, Nightfang dumped Tubby there and hid his tail-wand before yowling out loud.

The hall light was on, and Tubby outline grow larger and larger, oddly distorted by the rippling glass in the front door. Buck was behind him while barking, and Tulip was right up to Tubby's side almost at once.

"Tubsy!" she mewled. "About time too, I was getting quite...Tubby, what's the matter?"

Nightfang looked around at Tubby and leapt to the side just in time. Tubby swayed on the spot for a moment...then he opened his mouth and outright vomited all over the doormat where his cousin had stood at.

This made Tulip squeal, "TUBSY! What's the matter with you?! BRISTLE!"

Nightfang's uncle came thumping out of the living room, the mustache fur bristling as it always did when he was agitated. He and Buck hurried forwards to help Tulip urge a feeble Tubby over the threshold while avoiding stepping in the pool of vomit. Daniel bent down to clean the mess up before hurrying into the kitchen to get some cat food.

"He's ill, Bristle!"

"What is it, son? What's happened? Did the Polkiss housefolk give you some foreign tea?"

"Why are you all covered in dirt, darling? Have you been lying on the ground?"

"You haven't been robbed, have you, son?"

Tulip screamed. "Tell Daniel to call the police! Call the police! Tubsy, speak to Mummy! What did they do to you?"

With all the ruckus going on, nobody had noticed Nightfang, which was fine to him. He slipped inside just before Daniel closed the door and, while his relatives made their noisy progress down the hall to the kitchen, he moved carefully and quietly towards the stairs and up them. He was not going to get blamed for this now; they would see that the Dementors did it.

"Who did it, son? Give us names. We'll get them, don't worry."

One of Nightfang's paws was on the top stair when Tubby found his voice.

"_Him."_

_Shit! _Nightfang froze, paw on the stair, as he braced himself for the explosion.

"BOY! COME HERE!"

With dread and anger, Nightfang lifted his paw and turned to go down the stairs.

The meticulously clean kitchen had an oddly illusory glitter after the darkness outside. Tulip was ushering Tubby into a cat bed; he was still very shaky and blank. Bristle was standing in front of the stove, glaring at Nightfang through hateful narrowed eyes. Buck was looking between the cats as if figuring out

"What have you done to Tubby?!" Bristle asked in a menacing growl.

"Nothing," Nightfang replied defiantly, knowing that Bristle wouldn't believe him anyway.

"What did he do, Tubsy?" Tulip asked in a quavering voice, now wiping his front with a rag. "Was it...you-know-what, darling? Did he use...the thing?"

Slowly, Tubby nodded.

As Tulip let out a wail and Bristle growled, Nightfang snapped, "Look, I didn't do anything to him! It wasn't me! It was..."

But at that precise moment a long-eared owl swooped in through the kitchen window. Just missing the top of Bristle's head, it soared across the kitchen, dropped the large envelope it was carrying in its beak at Nightfang's paws. It turned gracefully, the tips of its wings just brushing the top of the refrigerator, and zoomed outside again and off across the garden.

"OWLS!" Bristle yowled towards the owl, while Daniel closed the window. "OWLS AGAIN! I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MORE OWLS IN THIS HOUSE!"

Nightfang tore open the envelope and pulling out the letter, his heart pounding somewhere in the region of his throat. It couldn't be...

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_We have received word that you performed the Patronus Charm at twenty-three minutes past nine this evening in a Twoleg-inhabited area and in the presence of a kittypet. The harshness of this breach of the Verdict for the Rational Restriction of Juvenile Magic has resulted in your exile from the Forest, School of Warriorism. Government agents will be calling at your place of residence shortly to destroy your tail-wand and declare you an outcast._

_As you have already received an official warning for a previous offence under Section 13 of the Worldwide Union of Warriors' Act of Secrecy, we regret to inform you that your presence is required at a penalizing trial at the Government of Warriorism at 9 a.m. on August 12, 2015._

_Hoping you are well,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Mafalda Hopkirk_

_Abuse of Magic Office_

_Government Of Warriorism_

Nightfang read the letter through twice, heart almost stopping dead. He was only vaguely aware of Bristle and Tulip talking. Inside his head, all was as icy and numb as the charm of a glacier. One fact had penetrated his view like a tranquilizing dart. He was now exiled from the Forest, an outcast. It was all over. He was never going back...ever.

He looked up at the Dursley cats. Bristle was snarling, Tulip was hugging Tubby, who was just vomiting again, and Daniel was calling the vet. Nightfang's briefly dazed brain seemed to revive like a beast from hibernation. The Government cats would be calling shortly to destroy his tail-wand. There was only one thing for it: He would have to run...now.

Where he was going to go, he didn't know. But he was certain of one thing: he needed his tail-wand whether he was at the Forest or outside of it. In a dream-like state, he pulled his tail-wand out from behind him and turned to leave the kitchen.

"Where are you going?!" Bristle spat. When Nightfang didn't say anything, he plodded across the kitchen to block the doorway into the hall. "I haven't finished with you, boy!"

"Yes you are," Nightfang meowed quietly. "Now get out of my way."

Bristle snarled, "You're going to stay here and explain how my son-"

Nightfang raised his tail-wand. "I'll jinx you if you don't get out of the way. Or I can claw you."

"What?! You can't pull that one on me!" Bristle growled. "I know you're not allowed to use it outside that asylum you call a school!"

"Well, the asylum had me kicked out," Nightfang growled back. "So I can do whatever I want now. You've got three seconds to get out of my way or else."

Just then, a resounding CRACK filled the kitchen. Tulip screamed piercingly, Bristle yelled and ducked, and Buck barked quite loudly and ran out of the kitchen. For the third time that night, Nightfang searched for the source of the disturbance he had not made. Then he spotted it at once: a dazed and ruffled-looking great gray owl sitting outside on the kitchen sill, having just collided with the window.

Ignoring Bristle's angry yell of "OWLS!", Nightfang ran across the room at a run and pulled the window open. The great gray owl stuck out its leg, to which a small scroll was tied, shook its feathers, and took off the moment it had delivered the letter. Heart pounding, Nightfang opened the second letter, which was written very quickly and blotchily in black ink.

_Nightfang,_

_Silverstar's at the Government HQ, and he's trying to sort it all out. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE. DO NOT DO ANY MORE MAGIC. DO NOT GIVE UP YOUR TAIL-WAND._

_Weaseltail Weasley_

Silverstar was trying to sort it all out...what did that mean? How much power did he have to overrule the Government? Was there a chance that he might be allowed back to school?

A small cell of hope multiplied in Nightfang's chest, almost instantly stifled by panic; how was he to refuse to yield his tail-wand without magic? He would have to fight the Government cats, and if he did that, he would be lucky to escape Alcatraz and exile.

His could run for it and risk being captured, or stay and wait for them to find him here. He was much more tempted by the former, but he knew Weaseltail was looking out for him like he would for his other kits. And after all, Silverstar had sorted out much worse than this.

"Okay," Nightfang mewed, sitting down. "I'm staying."

The Dursley cats appeared taken aback at his abrupt change of mind. Tulip glanced hopelessly at Bristle, who merely growled, "Who are all these bloody owls from?"

Nightfang was straining his ears to catch any noises outside, in case the Government cats were approaching, and it was easier and quieter to answer Bristle's questions than to have him start raging and bellowing.

So he meowed calmly, "The first was from the Government of Warriorism, exiling me. The second was from my friend Redstone's dad, who works at said Government."

"Government of Warriors?!" Bristle bellowed angrily. "Freaky cats like you in politics! Oh, this explains everything, everything! No wonder this country's going to pot!" When Nightfang did not respond, Bristle glared at him and spat out, "And why have you been banished?"

"Because I did magic."

That made Bristle slam his paw on the clean floor, shrieking, "AHA! Justice! So you admit it! Now _what did you do to Tubby?!_"

Nightfang's patience was slowly running out. "That wasn't me-"

"Yes," Tubby mumbled unexpectedly, and Bristle and Tulip instantly made flapping gestures at Nightfang with their paws to quiet him.

"Go on, son," Bristle rumbled. "What happened?"

"Tell us, darling," Tulip whispered.

"Pointed his stick at me," Tubby mumbled.

"I did, but I didn't use it..." Nightfang began angrily.

They hissed at him in unison. "Go on, son," Bristle urged Tubby.

Tubby went on hoarsely, shuddering, "All went dark. Everything was dark. And then I heard some...things. Inside my head."

They exchanged looks of utter horror while Nightfang inched away. If their least favorite thing in the world was magic (followed by Twolegs who texted and drove), those who heard voices were in the bottom ten. They obviously thought Tubby was slowly losing his mind.

Tulip, with tears in her eyes, mewled, "What sort of things did you hear, Pumpkin?"

Tubby didn't say anything. He shuddered again and shook his large head, and despite the sense of dread that had settled on Nightfang since the arrival of the first owl, he felt curiosity. Dementors caused a cat to relive the worst moments of their life. What would a spoiled, pampered, and bullying like Tubby have been forced to hear?

"How come you fell over?" Bristle asked in an oddly quiet voice, the kind of voice he might use at the bedside of a dying loved one.

"T-tripped," Tubby whimpered shakily. "And then..."

He gestured at his massive chest with a paw, and Nightfang knew. Tubby was remembering the clammy cold that filled the lungs as the hope and happiness were sucked out of you.

"Horrible," Tubby croaked. "Cold. Really cold."

Bristle nodded shakily while Tulip tried to feel her son's temperature. "Okay. So what happened then, Tubbers?"

"Felt...felt...as if...as if..."

"As if you'd never be happy again," Nightfang supplied dully.

"Yes."

"So!" Bristle snarled, voice restored to full and considerable volume as he whirled around at Nightfang. "You did this! You've driven our son loony! You put some crackpot spell on my son so he'd hear voices and believe he was doomed to misery, or something, did you?!"

"Don't say that!" Tulip whimpered.

Bristle growled, "Well, look at him! He's gone insane!"

"Dammit, it wasn't me, okay?!" Nightfang spat, his temper and voice both rising. "It was a couple of Dementors!"

"A couple of...what's this rubbish?"

Nightfang spoke slowly and clearly, "De...men...tors. There were two of them."

Bristle snorted. "And what the bloody hell are Dementors?"

"They guard the warrior prison called Alcatraz," Tulip suddenly meowed.

Two seconds of silence followed these words before Tulip clapped a paw over her mouth as if she had said a swear word. Bristle was goggling at her, and Nightfang's brain reeled. Fig was one thing to have known things about warriors...but his Aunt Tulip?

Out loud, he asked in shock, "How did you know that?"

Tulip looked quite appalled with herself. She glanced at Bristle in fearful apology, then lowered her hand slightly to reveal her horsy teeth, mewing jerkily, "I heard...that awful stray cat...telling her about them...years ago."

"If you mean my parents, why don't you use their names?" Nightfang asked loudly.

But Tulip didn't reply, leaving Nightfang stunned. Except for an outburst years ago, in the course of which Tulip had screamed that his mother was a freak, she had never mentioned her sister. He was stunned that she had remembered this information about the world of warrior cats for this long, when she usually pretended it didn't exist.

Bristle opened his mouth, closed it again, repeated it, and finally croaked, "So they...they...they actually exist, do they...Dementy-whatsits?"

Tulip nodded.

The big fat gray tom looked from Tulip to Tubby to Nightfang as if hoping somebody would yell "April Fools!" When nobody did, he opened his mouth again but was spared the struggle to find more words by the arrival of a scops owl. It zoomed through the open window like a bird-like cannon-ball and landed with a clatter on the kitchen table, causing all three Dursley cats to jump with fright. Nightfang tore a second official-looking envelope from the scops owl's beak and ripped it open as the owl swooped back out into the night.

"Enough... owls," Bristle grumbled distractedly, going to the window and shutting it again.

_Dear Mr. Potter,_

_Further to our letter of approximately twenty-two minutes ago, the Government of Warriorism has looked over its decision to destroy your wand instantly. You may keep your tail-wand until your trial on the twelfth of August, at which time an official decision will be taken._

_Following discussions with the leader of the Forest, School of Warriorism, the Government has agreed that the question of your banishment will also be decided at that time. You should thus consider yourself barred from school awaiting further questions._

_With best wishes,_

_Yours sincerely,_

_Blacktail Hopkirk_

_Abuse of Magic Office_

_Government Of Warriorism_

Nightfang read this letter through three times. The glum knot in his chest loosened slightly with the relief of knowing he was not yet definitely expelled, but his fears were not banished. Now everything seemed to hang on this hearing on the twelfth of August.

"Well?" Bristle demanded, making Nightfang look up. "What now? Have they sentenced you to anything? Does your lot have the death penalty?" he added as a hopeful addition.

Nightfang bristled, but he just meowed, "I've got to go to a trial."

"And they'll sentence you there?"

"I suppose so."

Bristle snorted nastily. "I won't give up hope, then."

Nightfang got back up to his paws, desperate to be alone, to think, perhaps to send a letter to his friends or godfather. "Well, if that's all..."

"NO, IT BLOODY WELL IS NOT ALL!" Bristle roared. "SIT BACK DOWN!"

"What now?!" Nightfang snapped impatiently.

"TUBBY! I want to know exactly what happened to my son!"

"FINE!" Nightfang roared back. In his temper, red and gold sparks shot out of the end of his tail- wand still on his tail. All three Dursley cats flinched, looking terrified, while Buck had come back into the kitchen, seeing the lights in fascination.

Speaking fast, Nightfang fought to control his temper. "Tubby and I were on the forest path just around Grave Street. Tubby thought he'd try to be a smart aleck towards me, so I pulled out my tail-wand _but didn't use it_. Then the two Dementors turned up..."

Bristle asked furiously, "But what ARE Dementoids? What do they DO?"

"I told you, they suck all the happiness out of you," Nightfang replied. "And if they do get the chance, they kiss you..."

"Kiss you?!" Bristle yelped, his eyes popping slightly. _"Kiss you?!"_

Nightfang nodded. "Yeah. It's what they call it when they suck the soul out of your mouth."

Tulip expressed a soft scream. "His soul? They didn't take - he's still got..." She seized her large son by the shoulders and shook him as if testing to see if she could hear his soul rattling around inside him.

"You'd know if they had, Aunt Tulip," Nightfang meowed, feeling exasperated.

Bristle had the appearance of a cat bringing the conversation back to something he knew. "Fought 'em off, did you, son?" he asked loudly. "Gave 'em the old one-two?"

Nightfang rolled his eyes and meowed through clenched teeth, "You can't give a Dementor the old one-two, Uncle Bristle."

"Why's he all right, then?" Bristle blustered. "Why isn't he all empty, then?"

"Because I used the Patronus..."

With a clattering, a whirring of wings and a soft fall of dust, a tawny owl came flying out of the kitchen fireplace. It was all covered in soot, and it had a dusty scroll tied to its leg.

"FOR GOD'S SAKE!" Bristle screamed. "I WILL NOT HAVE OWLS HERE! I WILL NOT TOLERATE THIS, I TELL YOU!"

But Nightfang was already pulling the scroll from the owl's leg. He was convinced that this letter was from Silverstar, explaining everything that had happened just recently. But for the first time in his life, he was disappointed to see Padfoot's writing. Ignoring Bristle's shouting about owls, and narrowing his eyes against a second cloud of dust as the owl took off back up the chimney, he read the message.

_Weaseltail just told us what happened. Don't leave the house again, whatever you do._

This was such a poor response to what had happened tonight that he turned the scroll over to look for the rest of the letter, but there was nothing else. Now Nightfang started to feel his temper rising again.

Wasn't anybody going to tell him "bravo" for fighting off two Dementors all by himself? Both Weaseltail and Padfoot were acting as if he had been naughty and were saving their lectures until they could determine how much damage was done.

"A fleck...I mean...flock of owls shooting in and out of my house! I won't have it, boy! I won't..."

"I can't stop the owls coming," Nightfang snapped, pushing the letter away.

Bristle yelled, "I want the truth about what happened! If it was Demenders who hurt Tubby, how come you were expelled?! You did you-know-what, you admitted it!"

Nightfang took a deep steadying breath to calm his aching head. He wanted more than anything to get out of the kitchen and away from the Dursley cats. "I did the Patronus Charm to get rid of the Dementors," he finally meowed, forcing himself to stay calm.

"But what were Dementoids doing on Wrangell Island?" Bristle growled in an outraged tone.

"I don't know."

His head was pounding in the glare of the strip-lighting now. His anger was ebbing away, and he felt totally drained and exhausted.

Finally, Bristle mewled forcefully, "It's you. It's got something to do with you, boy. Why else would they turn up here? Why else would they be down that forest path? You've got to be the only...the only...wild cat for miles."

Evidently, he couldn't bring himself to say the word "warrior".

Nightfang shrugged. "I don't know why they were here."

But hearing his uncle's words, Nightfang's tired brain shifted back into action. Why had the two Dementors come to Wrangell Island? How could it be coincidence that they had arrived in the forest path where he was? Had they been sent? Had the Government of Warriorism already lost control of the Dementors? Had they already abandoned Alcatraz and joined Red Helmet, just as Silverstar had predicted they would?

"These Demembers guard some weirdo's prison?" Bristle grumbled, lumbering along in the wake of his train of thought.

"Yes." If only his head would stop hurting, if only Nightfang could leave the kitchen and get to his room and think some more...

Then Bristle barked with the air of a cat reaching an unassailable conclusion, "Oho! They were coming to arrest you! That's it, isn't it, boy?! You're on the run from the law! Sweet justice!"

Nightfang shook his head. "No, of course not."

"Then why -?"

"He must have sent them," Nightfang mewed more to himself than to Bristle.

"What's that? _Who_ must have sent them?"

"Red Helmet."

He saw how strange it was that the Dursley cats, who flinched and squawked if they heard words like "warrior" or "tail-wand" could hear the name of the most demonic bear of all time without the slightest tremor.

"Red...hang on," Bristle meowed, a look of dawning understanding coming into his eyes. "I heard that name...that was the bear who..."

Nightfang nodded. "He killed my parents, yes."

Bristle didn't sound like the murder of Nightfang's parents was a painful topic. Instead, he mewed impatiently, "But he's gone. That panther said so. He's gone."

"Well, he's back."

It felt strange to be standing here in the clean kitchen, beside the fridge and the wide-screen television, talking calmly about Red Helmet to his relatives. The arrival of the Dementors in Wrangell Island seemed to have breached the great wall that divided the non-magical kittypet world and the world beyond that. The two worlds had somehow become fused, and everything had been turned upside-down; the Dursley cats were asking for details about the warrior world, Fig knew Silverstar, Dementors were soaring around Alaska, and he might never return to the Forest. Nightfang's head throbbed more painfully as he tried to think this over without keeling over from exhaustion.

"Back?" Tulip mewled, looking at her nephew as she had never looked at him before.

Now, for the first time in his life, Nightfang was happy that Tulip was his mother's sister. He could not have said why this hit him so very powerfully. All he knew was that he was not the only cat in the room who had an suspicion of what Red Helmet being back might mean. Tulip had never in her life looked at him like that before.

Her big pale eyes (so unlike her sister's beautiful green eyes) were not narrowed in dislike or anger; they were wide and fearful. The furious pretense that Tulip had upheld all of Nightfang's life (that there was no magic and no world other than the one she occupied with Bristle) seemed to have finally vanished.

Nightfang looked at his aunt. "Yes. He came back a just a moon ago. I saw him."

"Wait," Bristle meowed, looking from his mate to Nightfang, apparently dazed and confused by the unprecedented understanding. "Hang on. This bear's back, you say."

"Yes."

"The one who killed your parents."

"Yes."

"And now he's sending Dismembers after you?"

"Most likely."

Bristle looked between the other cats again. "I see...well then..._you can get out of this house, boy_!" he suddenly yelled.

Nightfang stepped back in surprise, mewing, "Wait...what?"

"You heard me! _OUT_!" Bristled roared, making his family jump and Buck run out of the kitchen again. "OUT! I should've done this years ago! Owls treating the place like they own the place, cakes exploding, half the living room destroyed, Tubby's pig tail, Dolores bobbing around on the ceiling, and that flying Dodge truck...OUT! You've had it! You're through! You're not staying here if some wild beast is after you! You're not endangering my family! You will not bring any trouble down on us. If you're going the same way as your stupid parents, then that's fine, but I have had it! OUT!"

Nightfang just stayed there, the letters in his bag. _Don't leave the house again, whatever you do. DO NOT LEAVE YOUR AUNT AND UNCLE'S HOUSE._

"You heard me!" Bristle spat, shoving Nightfang towards the door. "Get going! You were keen on leaving half an hour ago! I'll be right behind you, boy! Get out and never darken our doorstep again! Why we ever kept you in the first place, I don't know! Dolores was right; you should've stayed at the pound! We were too damn soft for our own good, thought we could squash it out of you, thought we could turn you into a normal cat! But NO, you've been rotten from the start, and I've had enough...owls!"

A barn owl zoomed down the chimney so fast it hit the floor before zooming into the air again with a screech. Nightfang prepared to seize the letter, which was in a red envelope, but it soared over his head, flying at Tulip, who squeaked and ducked. The owl dropped the red envelope on her head, turned, and flew back up the chimney.

Nightfang darted forwards to pick it up, but Tulip beat him to it. So he stopped and meowed, "You can open it if you like, but I'll hear what it says anyway. That's a Yowler."

Bristle growled, "Let go of it, Tulip! It could be dangerous!"

"It's addressed to me," Tulip rasped in a very shaky voice. "Look! Tulip Dursley, The Kitchen, Number Six, Evergreen Terrace..." Then she caught her breath, horrified, as the red envelope began to smoke.

"Open it!" Nightfang urged her. "Get it over with!"

Tulip trembled hard and looked wildly around the kitchen as if looking for an escape route, but it was too late: the envelope burst into flames. Tulip gave a scream and dropped it.

A deep and awful voice filled the kitchen, echoing and issuing from the burning letter.

_Remember my last, Tulip._

Tulip looked like she would faint as the remains of the envelope burned into ash in the silence.

"What is this?" Bristle asked hoarsely. "What...I don't...dear?"

Tulip said nothing, and Tubby was staring stupidly at his mother, his mouth hanging as open as a frog's. The silence spiraled horribly like a spider spinning a web. Nightfang was watching his aunt, feeling utterly bewildered as his head kept throbbing fit to burst.

"Tulip, dear?" Bristle tried again timidly.

She raised her head, still trembling. She swallowed and finally rasped weakly, "The boy...he will have to stay, Bristle."

"W-what? But he..."

"He stays," she insisted. Her voice was back to its usual crisp and snappish way, but she still was shaken. "If we throw him out, the neighbors will talk about it. They will ask awkward questions and will want to know where he's gone. So we'll have to keep him."

Bristle gaped at her. "But he...Tulip?"

Tulip ignored him and turned to Nightfang. "You're to stay in your room for the time being," she told him. "You're not to leave the house until it is safe. Now get to bed."

Nightfang didn't move. Instead, he asked, "Who was that Yowler from?"

"Don't ask questions," Tulip snapped.

"Are you in touch with warriors?"

"I thought I told you to get to bed!"

"What did it mean? Remember the last what?"

"Go to bed!"

"But how come...?"

"YOU HEARD YOUR AUNT, NOW GET TO BED!" Bristle roared.

And not wanting to get yelled at anymore, Nightfang dashed away.

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Cody The Pikachu: Well, there we go. The second chapter is done. Well, I gotta get off soon. We might be heading out in a matter of minutes, and hey, we'll be back home in time for Christmas.**

**Korra: (Hugs him) I hope you have a great and safe trip back home, Cody. You sure did a lot while up here, huh?**

**Cody: Yep. I went to church, I saw my niece's baptism, I went to that Remember When concert, I celebrated Thanksgiving, I saw wrestling...and I finally saw my ex-girlfriend again. She came over yesterday, and I was happy to see her again. I was mad at her at first for always being too busy, but when she was honest to me about it, I couldn't bring myself to let out my anger.**

**Korra: Nothing like seeing old friends again, and it's good to just stay cool and not blow your top...unlike me. Well, better get on with the review thing. (To the readers) Remember to read and review, folks! Anyone who does so will have a virtual pizza of their choice along with some drinks. We don't allow flames, but we welcome advice, questions of any kind, and constructive criticism as long as it's not harsh.**

**Both: See ya next time!**


	3. The Guard

**Cody The Pikachu: Hey there, folks, and welcome back to Order Of The White Lotus! I'd like to say a little something first. Thanks to my talk show being posted, Korra might not appear for some time on here.**

**Second, I hope you're all having a good 2014 so far this year! I've got a few New Year's resolutions, and one of them is to lose weight. The second is to get a job at Books-A-Million, but I'll try my best to upload some more stories. Finally, the third resolution is to see the Walking With Dinosaurs movie. I'd like to see Patchi, Juniper, Scowler, and Alex on the big screen before going onto the DVD and Blu-Ray.**

**Okay, that's all I gotta say for now. On with the story!**

**Disclaimer: Just remember that I own neither Harry Potter nor Warrior Cats. This FanFiction series is made for entertainment, not money. Both of these series belong to J.K. Rowling and Erin Hunter.**

**Uploading Date: January 2, 2014**

**Enjoy!**

**...**

_**The Guard**_

_I've just been attacked by Dementors, and I might be exiled from the Forest. I want to know what's going on and when I'll get out of here._

Nightfang wrote this on three separate pieces of paper as he reached the desk in his room. He addressed the first paper to Padfoot, the second one to Redstone, and the third to Fawnwillow. His owl, Katara, was off hunting, for her cage stood empty on the desk.

The black cat paced the bedroom waiting for her to come back, his brain pounding and too busy for sleep even as his eyes stung with weariness. His back ached from hauling Tubby home, and the two lumps and scars on his head where the window and Tubby hurt him throbbed painfully.

Up and down he paced, consumed with anger and irritation, grinding his teeth and casting angry looks out at the empty starry sky out the window. Dementors sent to fetch him, Fig and Dung Fletcher tailing him in secret, then suspension from the Forest, and a hearing at the Government of Warriorism raged in his mind. And still...no one was telling him what was going on.

And what was that Yowler about? Whose voice had echoed so horribly and menacingly through the kitchen? Why was he still trapped here without being told anything? Why was everyone treating him like a naughty kit? _Don't do any more magic, stay in the house..._

He swiped his paw at his school trunk as he passed it, but he regretted it right away, he now had a sharp pain in his paw to deal with in addition to the pain in his body. Just as he limped past the window with a swear, Katara soared through it with a soft rustle of wings like a ghost.

"It's about time!" Nightfang snarled at her as she landed lightly on top of her cage. "You can put that down. I've got work for you!"

The owls' amber eyes gazed at him reprovingly over the dead mouse clamped in her beak.

Nightfang picked up the three small rolls of paper and a leather string and tied the scrolls to her leg. "Take these to Padfoot, Redstone, and Fawnwillow, and don't come back here without good long replies. Keep pecking or scratching them till they've written decent-length answers if you've got to. You understand?"

Katara gave a muffled hoot, her beak still full of mouse.

"Get going, then."

She took off almost instantly, her white frame visible in the darkness. The moment she was gone, Nightfang leapt onto his bed and stared at the dark ceiling as he laid on his back. In addition to every other miserable feeling, he now felt guilty of being irritable with Katara; she was the only friend he had in the Twoleg world. But he would be able to make it up to her when she came back with the answers from his friends and godfather. They were bound to write back quickly, and he knew they couldn't ignore a Dementor attack.

He would probably wake up tomorrow to three letters stuffed with sympathy and plans for his immediate removal to The Tunnels. And with that comforting idea, sleep rolled over him, stifling all further thought.

**...**

But he was angry to see that Katara didn't return next morning. So Nightfang spent the day sulking in his bedroom, leaving it only to go to the bathroom. Three times, Daniel dropped off some cat food, and when Tulip was with him, Nightfang tried to question her about the Yowler. But he might as well have talked to the door for all the answers he got: none.

The Dursley cats kept away from his room, but Nightfang didn't care. He couldn't see the point of forcing his company onto them. Another argument would achieve nothing except perhaps make him so angry he would perform more illegal magic.

So it went on for three days. Nightfang was filled with restless energy that made him unable to settle down, during when he paced his room, furious at them all for leaving him to stew in this mess. With lethargy so full that he could lie on his bed for an hour, he just stared dazedly into space, aching with anxiety at the thought of the trial.

What if they ruled against him? What if he was exiled and his tail-wand was shredded? What would he do, and where would he go? He could not return to living with the Dursley cats, not now he knew the other world where he really belonged. Could he move with Padfoot, as said cat had said a year ago before he had been forced to flee? Would Nightfang be able to live there alone, given that he was still youthful? Or would the matter of where he went next be decided for him? Had his breaking of the Worldwide Act of Silence been severe enough to land him in a cell deep in Alcatraz?

Whenever he thought of this, Nightfang leapt off his bed and began pacing again.

On the fourth night after Katara left, Nightfang was lying in one of his lazy stages, staring at the ceiling with a blank mind when his uncle entered his bedroom. The black cat looked around at him as slowly as a tortoise. Bristle was wearing a cat tuxedo and an expression of enormous smugness on his face before turning it into indifference.

"We're going out," he greeted him gruffly.

"Sorry?"

"We...your aunt, Tubby, and I...are going out."

"Okay," Nightfang muttered, looking back at the ceiling.

"You are not to leave your room while we are away."

"Fine."

"You are not to touch the television, the sound system, or any of our possessions."

"Right."

"You are not to steal food from the icebox."

"Okay."

"You will not leave this room."

"Fine."

Bristle glared at him, clearly suspicious of this calmness, but he stomped out of the room and closed the door. Nightfang heard the key turn in the lock and his uncle walking heavily down the stairs. A few minutes later, he heard Daniel slamming car doors, the rumble of an engine, and the unmistakable sound of the monster pulling out of the driveway.

Nightfang didn't care about the Dursleys leaving. In fact, he could not even summon the energy to get up and turn on the light. The room grew steadily darker as he lay listening to the night sounds of Alaska through the window he kept open all the time, waiting for the moment when Katara came back. The empty house creaked around him, and the pipes gurgled. Nightfang just laid there like a corpse, thinking of nothing and trapped in misery.

Then suddenly, he heard a crash in the kitchen below. He sat bolt upright, listening intently and his fur bristling. The Dursley cats couldn't be back so soon, and he hadn't heard their monster come back.

There was silence for a few seconds, then voices occurred. He slid off the bed and to his paws, but he saw that burglars would quiet down, and whoever was moving around in the kitchen was not doing it right. Even a raccoon could be even quieter than them.

He snatched up his tail-wand from the bedside table, put it on his tail, and stood at his door, listening hard. Next moment, he jumped as the lock gave a click and his door swung open. The black cat stood still, staring through the doorway at the dark upstairs landing, straining his ears for sounds, but none came. He hesitated for a moment, and then he moved swiftly and silently out to the head of the stairs.

His heart shot up into his throat. There were cats in the shadowy hall below, silhouetted against the streetlight glowing through the door. There were eight or nine cats, all looking up at him.

"Sheathe your claws, boy. You'll poke someone's eye out," a growling voice growled.

Nightfang's heart thumped hard. He knew that voice, but he did not sheathe his claws. "Mad-Eye Moody?" he meowed uncertainly. "You're a mentor from last year, right?"

The voice growled, "I don't know so much about being a mentor. Never got around to much of teaching, did I? Now get down here. We want to see you properly."

Nightfang sheathed his claws but kept his tail-wand up. He had a good reason to be suspicious. He had recently spent nine moons with who he had thought was Mad-Eye Moody only to see that it wasn't Mad-Eye at all, but an impostor; an impostor, moreover, who had tried to murder Nightfang before being found out. But before he could make a decision about what to do next, a second, slightly hoarse voice floated upstairs.

"It's okay, Nightfang. We're here to take you away from here."

Nightfang's heart leapt, for he knew that voice, though he hadn't heard it for over a year. He let out a disbelieving mew, "W-Wolfclaw? Is that you?"

"What're we all standing in the dark for?" a third unfamiliar voice mewed, this time a female voice. _"Lumos."_

A tail-wand flared, lighting the hall with light. Nightfang blinked. The cats were crowded around the foot of the stairs, gazing up at him, some craning their heads for a better look.

Wolfclaw Lupin stood nearest to him. Though still quite young, the Norwegian Forest cat looked tired and rather ill; he had more gray patches on his light brown fur than when Nightfang had last seen him. Nevertheless, he was smiling broadly at Nightfang, who tried his best to to smile back in spite of being surprised.

"Wow, he looks just like I thought he would," the cat with the lit tail-wand mewed. She looked the youngest here; she was a pretty tortoiseshell-&-white she-cat with a pale heart-shaped face, dark twinkling amber eyes, and short wavy fur with patches of violet. "Hey, what's up?"

"Yeah, I agree," meowed an African caracal at the back. He had a deep slow voice, a single gold hoop in an ear (both with tall black tufts), and a golden-tawny pelt. "He looks like Darkfire."

"Except the eyes," a silver-furred cat at the back wheezed. "Lilypelt's eyes."

Mad-Eye Moody, a grizzled dark gray tom with a mangled face, was squinting at Nightfang through his odd eyes. One eye was normal and amber, the other large, round, and lightning green: the magical eye that could see through anything and even out of the back of his head.

"You sure it's him, Lupin?" he growled. "It'd sure be nice if we bring back some Demon Cat imitating him. We should ask him something only the real Potter would know. Unless anyone brought any Veritaserum?"

Wolfclaw waved a tail at him. "There's no need; I'll ask him. Nightfang," he meowed to the black tom. "What form does your Patronus take?"

"A stag."

"That's him, Mad-Eye," Wolfclaw confirmed.

Very conscious of everybody still staring, Nightfang padded down the stairs, lowering his tail-wand. But right away, Mad-Eye snapped, "Don't lower your tail-wand, boy! What if it ignited? Many warriors before you have lost asses and tails, you know!"

"Who do you know who's lost an ass or tail?" the pretty tortoiseshell asked Mad-Eye interestedly and with a wink.

"Never mind, just keep your tail-wand up!" Mad-Eye growled. "Elementary tail-wand safety. No one cares about it anymore." He stumped off towards the kitchen, and the tortoiseshell cat rolled her eyes, making him snap, "And I saw that."

Wolfclaw padded forth and touched noses with him, a gesture some cats used to greet each other. "How are you?" he asked, looking closely at him.

"I'm...I'm fine."

Nightfang could hardly believe his eyes. A moon with nothing, not the tiniest hint of a plan to remove him from here, and cats were standing in the house as if this was a reunion. He glanced at the cats around Wolfclaw; they were still gazing eagerly at him. He had now realized that he had not groomed his pelt for a few days.

"I'm...you're lucky the Dursleys are out," he mumbled.

"Lucky, ha!" the tortoiseshell purred. "It was me who lured them outta here. I sent a letter to your Twoleg by Twoleg post telling the kittypets they were nominated for the All-America Best Kept Residential Lawn Contest. They're heading off to the prize-giving right now...or they think they are. And I gave that dog a couple treats to keep himself occupied."

Nightfang could have laughed at Bristle's face when he realized there was no contest. He then meowed, "Are we leaving soon?"

"Almost at once," Wolfclaw replied. "We're just waiting for the coast to be clear."

"Are we going to the Tunnels?" Nightfang asked hopefully.

Wolfclaw led him into the kitchen. "No, not there. It's too risky. We've set up Headquarters somewhere untraceable. It's taken a while to get there."

Mad-Eye was now sitting at the kitchen table, his magical eye spinning in all directions, taking in Daniel's many labor-saving machines.

"This is Stormwatcher Moody, Nightfang," Wolfclaw continued, gesturing to Mad-Eye.

"I know," Nightfang mewed uneasily. It felt strange to be introduced to a cat he thought he had known for a year.

"And this is Sorrelflower-"

"Uh...don't call me that," the she-cat meowed with a shudder. "I said for you to call me Tonks. Remember? Capisce?"

Wolfclaw finished, "Sorrelflower Tonks, who prefers to be known by her last name only."

Tonks rolled her amber eyes. "So would you if your mother named you Sorrelflower."

"And this is Jumba Shacklebolt." He indicated the tall caracal, who bowed. "Waterspeck Doge." The wheezy-voiced silver cat nodded. "Tinystep Diggle..."

"We've met before," the excitable Tinystep squeaked, dropping his top hat.

"Blackwhisker Vance." A royal-looking black Persian cat in an emerald green scarf inclined her head. "Stonepelt Podmore." A square-jawed ginger tabby tomcat winked. "And Paleflower Jones." A beautiful black-&-white she-cat waved from next to the toaster.

Nightfang nodded awkwardly at each of them as they were introduced. He wished they wouldn't look at him; it was like he had suddenly been ushered before a live audience. He also wondered why so many cats, all warriors, were there.

As if reading his mind, Wolfclaw meowed with a grin, "A surprising number of cats volunteered to come and get you."

"The more the better, that's what I say," Mad-Eye growled darkly. "We're your guard, Potter."

"We're just waiting for the signal to tell us it's safe to go," Wolfclaw added, glancing out of the kitchen window. "We've got about fifteen minutes before we head out."

"These kittypets sure are clean, huh?" the she-cat called Tonks remarked, looking around the kitchen with interest. "My dad's a kittypet-born, and he's a sloth when it comes to cleaning. But I suppose it varies, just as it does with warriors?"

Nightfang nodded. To Wolfclaw, he asked, "So what's going on? I haven't heard anything from anyone, what's Red Helm-?"

Several of the cats made odd hissing noises. Tinystep dropped his hat again, and Mad-Eye snarled his normal eye on Nightfang as he snapped, "Shut up! We're not discussing anything here. It's too risky. But as he said this, his magical eye remained focused on the ceiling.

"Damn it," he added angrily, pawing at the magical eye. "It keeps getting stuck...ever since that bastard wore it..." And with a nasty squelching sound like a plunger being pulled from a sink, he popped out his eye.

"Mad-Eye, that's gross," Tonks mewed conversationally.

Mad-Eye looked away from her and to Nightfang again. "Can you get me some water, Potter?"

Nightfang leapt up onto the counter to get a cup and filled it with water at the sink, still watched eagerly by the cats. Their relentless staring was starting to annoy him, but he knew better than to argue with them.

"Thanks a lot," Mad-Eye meowed when Nightfang handed him the glass. He dropped the magical eyeball into the water and prodded it up and down; the eye whizzed around, staring at them all in turn. "I want a three hundred and sixty degree outlook on the trip back."

"How're we leaving?" Nightfang asked.

"We'll go by wings since it's the only way now," Wolfclaw spoke up. "You're still too young to Apparate, and they'll be watching the Floo Network carefully. It's more than our life's worth to set up an unauthorized Portkey."

"Wolfclaw says you're a good flier," Jumba spoke up in his deep voice.

Wolfclaw nodded. "He's brilliant, just like Darkfire. Anyways, you better get packed, Nightfang. We'll go when the signal comes."

"I'll come and help you," Tonks piped up brightly.

She followed Nightfang back into the hall and up the stairs, looking around with much curiosity and interest. "Funny place," she remarked. "It's a bit too clean. Unnatural for a cat. Okay, this is better," she added, as they entered the bedroom and he turned on the light.

His room was much messier than the rest of the house. Staying in it for four days in a bad mood, Nightfang had not bothered cleaning up. Most of the books he owned were scattered all over the floor where he had tried to distract himself with each in turn and thrown it aside. Katara's cage needed cleaning out and was starting to smell. His trunk lay open, revealing a jumbled mix of stuff that had spilled on to the floor around it.

Nightfang started picking up books and throwing them hastily into his trunk. Tonks paused at his open wardrobe to look at her reflection in the mirror on the inside of the door.

"I don't think violet's really my color," she mewed pensively, turning to lick at a loose strand of her fur. "Do you think it makes me look a bit thin?"

Nightfang didn't reply, but he did look up at her over the top of his AirBall Teams of North America book.

Seeing his look, Tonks closed her eyes in a strained expression as if struggling to remember something. A second later, her fur had turned from tortoiseshell...to a bright canary yellow.

"Great StarClan's kits!" Nightfang gasped as Tonks opened her amber eyes again. "How'd you do that?"

Tonks looked back at her reflection and turning her head so that she could see her fur from all directions. "I'm a Metamorphmagus, and that means I can change my appearance at will," she meowed, seeing his puzzled expression in the mirror behind her. "I was born as one of these, and I'm proud of it. I got top marks in Camouflage and Disguise during Aura Cat training without any study at all. It's awesome."

Nightfang was impressed. Being a Dark warrior-catcher was the only career he had ever thought of doing after he graduated. "So you're an Aura Cat?"

"Hell yeah," Tonks purred, looking proud. "Jumba is as well, but he's a bit higher up than me. I only qualified a year ago, though I nearly failed on Stealth and Tracking. Did you hear me break that plate when we arrived downstairs? That was me."

"Can you learn how to be a Metamorphmagus?" Nightfang asked, forgetting about packing.

Tonks purred. "Bet you wouldn't mind hiding that scar sometimes, huh?" she asked, her on the lightning-shaped scar on Nightfang's forehead.

"I wouldn't mind at all," Nightfang mumbled, turning away. He once liked cats seeing his scar as it made him unique...but that was a long time ago.

"You might have to learn the hard way, sorry to say. Metamorphmagi are really rare cats; they're born, not made. Most warrior cats need to use a tail-wand or potions to change their appearance. But we gotta get packing," she added guiltily, looking around at all the mess on the floor.

Nightfang mewed "Oh yeah" and set to work, grabbing a few more books.

Tonks merely began waving her tail-wand in a long sweeping movement over the floor. Books, supplies, telescope, and scales all soared into the air and flew headlong into the trunk.

"It's not neat," Tonks meowed, walking over to the trunk and looking at the jumble inside. "My mom's got this knack of getting stuff to fit itself in neatly; she even gets the collars to fit in...but I've never mastered how she does it. It's a kind of flick." She flicked her tail-wand hopefully, and Nightfang's old collar gave a feeble wiggle and flopped back on top of the mess.

Tonks shrugged, slamming the trunk's lid shut, and meowed, "At least it's all in. That cage could do with some cleaning too." She pointed her wand at Katara's cage and meowed _"Scourgify!"_ as a few feathers and droppings vanished. "That's better. I've never got the hang of these household spells. Okay, you got everything? Pot? Wings? Wait a minute...that's a Thunderbolt!"

Her eyes widened as they fell on the wings in Nightfang's jaws. This pair of wings was his pride and joy, a gift from Padfoot, for it was an international-standard set of wings.

"Man, I'm still riding an Asteroid Three Sixty," Tonks mewed enviously. "Well, that doesn't matter. So you still got your tail-wand up? Tail and butt still on? _Locomotor trunk._"

The trunk rose a few kit-steps into the air. Holding her wand like a performer's stick, Tonks made the trunk float across the room and out of the door ahead of them, Katara's cage in her jaws. Nightfang followed her down the stairs just after putting his wings on.

Back in the kitchen, Mad-Eye had replaced his eye, which was spinning so fast after its cleaning that it made Nightfang feel sick just to look at it. Jumba and Stonepelt were examining the stove, and Paleflower was playing around with the fish tank Daniel had gotten the past greenleaf. At last, Nightfang saw Wolfclaw sealing a letter addressed to the Dursleys.

"Excellent, that'll work," the light tabby tom was meowing, looking up as the two other cats entered. "We've got about a minute left. We should probably get out into the garden so we're ready. Nightfang, I left a letter telling your owner not to worry-"

"They won't."

"...that you're safe..."

"He always thinks I'm safe."

"...and you'll see them next greenleaf."

"Do I have to?"

Wolfclaw gave him a small smile, but he didn't reply.

"Come here, boy," Mad-Eye growled gruffly, beckoning Nightfang to him with his mangled paw. "I need to Disillusion you. You know, with a Disillusionment Charm. Lupin says you've got an Invisibility Pelt, but it won't stay on you while we're flying. This'll disguise you better."

He rapped him hard on the top of the head with a paw and Nightfang felt a curious sensation as if Mad-Eye had just smashed his head with a rock. Cold trickles seemed to be running down his pelt from the point the paw had struck him.

"Nice one, Mad-Eye," Tonks meowed appreciatively, staring at Nightfang.

Nightfang looked down at his body...or what had been his body, for it didn't look anything like his anymore. It wasn't invisible; it had taken on the exact color and texture of the kitchen unit just behind him. He now felt like he had become a feline chameleon.

Mad-Eye unlocked the back door with a claw, and they all stepped outside on to Daniel's lawn. "Clear night," Mad-Eye grunted, his magical eye scanning the night sky. "Could've done with a bit more cloud cover. Right then, we're going to be flying in close formation. Tonks will be right in front of you, so keep close on her tail. Lupin will be covering you from below, and I'm going to be behind you. The rest will be circling us. We don't break ranks for anything, not for stuff like toilet breaks or shit like that. If one of us is killed..."

"Is that likely?" Nightfang asked worryingly.

"...the others keep flying," Mad-Eye went on, ignoring him. "We don't stop, and we don't break ranks. If they take out all of us and you survive, Nightfang, then the rear guard will take over. Keep flying east, and they'll join you."

"Stop being too cheerful, Mad-Eye. He'll think we're not taking this seriously" Tonks joked as she strapped the trunk and the owl cage into a harness around her body.

Mad-Eye growled, "I'm just telling the boy the plan. Our jobs to deliver him safely to the secret headquarters, and if we die in the attempt..."

"No one's going to die," Jumba reminded him in his deep calming voice. "But if we do, I won't mind taking a few enemies down with me."

"Spread your wings out!" Wolfclaw called, looking to the sky. "That's the first signal!"

Nightfang looked up and saw a shower of bright red sparks flaring among the stars, recognizing them at once as tail-wand sparks. He flapped the wings of the Thunderbolt and felt it vibrating very slightly, as if it was as eager as he was to be up in the air again. Just in time, green sparks exploded high above the cats' heads.

Wolfclaw yowled, "Second signal, let's go!"

So Nightfang kicked off hard from the ground, using his strong sturdy legs. The cool night air rushed through his long black fur as the gardens of Evergreen Terrace fell away, shrinking into a patchwork of dark green and black, and thoughts of the Government trial were swept away from his mind as if the rush of air had blown it out of his head. He felt like his heart was going to burst with pleasure; he was flying again, away from Daniel's place as he had been fantasizing about all greenleaf. He was going home...for a few wonderful moments, all his problems seemed to ebb away to nothing, insignificant in the starry sky.

"Hard left! There's a Twoleg looking up!" Mad-Eye yowled from behind him. Tonks swerved to the left, and Nightfang followed her, watching his trunk swinging wildly beneath her. "We need more height! Give it another quarter of a sky-length!"

Nightfang's eyes watered in the chill as they soared up; he could see nothing below now but tiny spots of light that were headlights and streetlamps. Two of those lights could be Daniel heading back to his house right now, disappointed about the made-up contest. He purred at the thought of that, yet his voice died from the wind blowing against the cats and the creaking of the harness holding his trunk and the cage as they sped through the air. He had not felt this alive in around a moon or this happy.

Just then, Mad-Eye yowled, "Bearing south! Island town ahead!" They soared right to avoid passing over the glittering lights below, and he called, "Go southeast and keep climbing! There's a low cloud ahead we can hide ourselves in!"

Tonks retorted, "We're not going through clouds, Mad-Eye! We'll get soaked!"

Nightfang agreed, for he was getting exhausted from flying. He wished his fur was thicker like a purebred Maine Coon, for he was freezing.

They altered their course now and again according to Mad-Eye's instructions. Nightfang lowered his head against the current of icy wind that was making his ears ache; he could remember being this cold in the air only once before, during the AirBall match against Hufflepuff two years ago, which took place in a storm. The warriors were circling continuously like giant vultures, and he lost track of time. He wondered how long they had been flying; it felt like an hour at least.

"Turn southwest!" Mad-Eye yowled. "We want to avoid the main Thunderpath!"

Nightfang was now so cold that he thought of the snug dry insides of monsters streaming along below. Then he thought, even more longingly, of traveling by Floo powder; it was uncomfortable to spin around in fireplaces, but at least it was warm in the fire.

Jumba swooped around him, golden eyes and earring gleaming slightly in the moonlight. Now Blackwhisker was on his right, her tail-wand streaming behind her and her head turning left and right. Then she, too, swooped over him to be replaced by Stonepelt.

"We ought to double back to make sure we're not being followed!" Mad-Eye shouted.

"WHAT?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!"' Tonks screamed from the front. "We're all frozen up here! If we keep going off-course, we're not gonna get there until next quarter-moon! Besides, we're nearly there now!"

"Okay, time to start the descent!" Wolfclaw called. "Follow Tonks, Nightfang!"

So the black tom followed Tonks into a dive. They were heading for the biggest collection of lights he had seen so far, a huge sprawling mass glittering in lines and grids, sprinkled with patches of deepest black. Down they flew, until he could see individual lights and lamps, funnels and TV aerials. He wanted to reach the ground very much, but he felt sure someone would have to warm him up first.

And with a yowl from Tonks ("Here we go!"), they landed.

Nightfang landed right behind her, on a patch of unkempt grass in the middle of a small square. Tonks was already unbuckling the trunk from her harness while Nightfang, shivering, looked around him to see the sight.

The grimy fronts of the surrounding houses were not as welcoming as he thought. Some of them had broken windows, glimmering dimly in the light from the lamps, paint was peeling from the doors, and heaps of garbage laid outside several sets of front steps.

"Where are we?" Nightfang asked...only for Wolfclaw to say "Wait."

Mad-Eye was rummaging in his robe, his paws unaffected by the cold. "Got it, the little devil," he muttered, raising what looked like a silver cigarette lighter into the air and clicking it.

The nearest streetlamp went out with an electric pop, like a normal light bulb would do. He clicked the lighter again, and the next lamp went out. He kept clicking it until every lamp in the square was doused, and the only remaining light on the street came from curtained windows and the claw-like moon overhead.

"Borrowed it from Silverstar," Mad-Eye growled, pocketing the Put-Outer. "That'll take care of any Twolegs or kittypets looking out of the window. Now come on, quickly."

He nudged Nightfang away from the patch of grass, across the road and on to the sidewalk. Wolfclaw and Tonks followed, carrying the trunk between them, the rest of the guard flanking them with tail-wands raised.

The muffled pounding of a radio was coming from an upper window in the nearest house. A strong smell of rotting garbage and meat came from the pile of bulging trash bags just inside the broken gate. This was more likely a place for vermin like rats to live at and feast. Not only that, but the place was near the woods so that he could see a lone porcupine amble past.

Mad-Eye thrust a piece of parchment to Nightfang's Disillusioned paw and holding his lit tail-wand close to it, to light up the writing. "Here...read quickly and memorize it."

Nightfang looked down at the piece of paper. The narrow writing was unclearly familiar, but he could not remember where it was from. It said: _The Headquarters of the Order of the White Lotus may be found at number twenty-four, Gastineau, Juneau._

_Order Of The White Lotus? What's that about?_

_**To be continued...**_

**...**

**Cody The Pikachu: Well, here we go, folks! The newest chapter of the fifth Nightfang Potter book! I'm not going to be as busy on this story as the others, but I'm gonna try and upload it as sometimes as I can. And if I made any mistakes here, let me know, and I'll fix them.  
**

**2014 is gonna be a new year indeed. What I plan on doing, of course, is to try and upload stories as often as I can. I also plan on finishing Kataang Island Adventure 2 and deleting any stories I'm no longer interested in uploading. But I can also make remakes of stories I haven't uploaded in a long time like Bluebeard's Story and a few others. And as for the Kataang Island Adventure prequel...it'll be uploaded shortly after the sequel is done.**

**Just remember to read and review this chapter, folks! Anyone who does so will get virtual frosted cookies along with virtual figurines of their favorite Harry Potter. I won't allow any flames, but I DO welcome advice, questions of any kind, and constructive criticism. Just as long as it's not harsh.**

**See ya next time!**


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